Better Left Unkept
by Loves Ironic Tragedy
Summary: To Zack, it didn't matter that they were both dead. It didn't matter that she was killed. All that mattered was that he got to see her again. Before, there was no time. Now, there's all the time in the wold. - Zack/Aerith Afterlife oneshot.


Rah! I wanted to write this oneshot so badly and it's finally done! It only took me what, a month? No joke. The ending is what fought with me the most. Or maybe it was the middle. Or maybe it was the end of the middle? Yeah, it was the end of the middle. I thought this would be really cute. It looked fluffier in my head, but this is about as fluffy as it is going to get from me. Hopefully you like it. I honestly think that Zack/Aerith is one of the cutest couples in videogame history. For me it's up there with Link and Zelda. (NO ONE beats Link/Zelda, but this is a semi-close second.) Well anyway, I tried to do something light and happier than usual. It isn't out of my comfort zone or anything, just different from what I usually attempt. Tell me what you think?  
**  


* * *

**

**Better Left Un-kept**

His eyes flutter to greet the white world as they open just barely. His lips part slightly. He calls for his mother in a voice softer than grass coated in midmorning dew.

A soft hand rests on his pale cheek. "I suppose I should be used to this by now. I am not your mother. Please wake up," a mild female voice pleads.

Sapphire eyes infused with mako energy snap open to meet a familiar gaze. Sky meets ocean. The beautiful brunette smiles, stroking the raven-haired man's cheek delicately, as if he were a flower. He feels so weightless being touched this way. His body seems to be lying on air, floating in the middle of a mist and fog. Cool water condensates on every inch of bare skin.

A smile plays on his soft lips. "Nice to see you again," he says with a genuine smile, "Aerith."

A similar look of contentment dances on the beautiful girl's face. She pushes her hand through his hair, tangling the fingers within the dark locks. She notes that they are just as silky as she remembers, though the styling remains an anomaly. She stares down at his face, treating it as a delicacy. To her, it is a thing of pure beauty. Though he may have been a warrior in life, fighting for the 'scary' people, there was nothing scary about Zack Fair. There was nothing scary about the way he grinned evilly when he was about to pounce on prey. There was nothing remotely frightening about his body splattered with his own blood after his final battle. There was nothing horrifying about him. There was merely pride to be held to his existence. He was a strong man—he had done nothing wrong. SOLDIER was wrong people. Zack Fair was not a wrong people. He was a good people.

Why do good people die, the last of the Ancients to perish wonders. What did Zack Fair do to deserve death? Nothing at all had he done wrong. He lived life honorably, yet here he was meeting the one girl he ever liked. The one girl he ever liked was meeting the one man she ever liked. It worked for them. It worked out perfectly.

They remain there, peering deep through each other's souls. After all, spirits were what remained of the two. Zack's body was eroding somewhere and Aerith's was drifting through the lifestream. Being so far apart physically drew them closer together in the afterlife. The sad reality of physical distance could hold no bearing on the spiritual distance, alas, and that may have been what brought them both here together. Nothing can keep apart true magnetism. Drawn to Aeirth, Zack most likely wandered aimlessly through the afterlife before finding her at last. Suitably, behind Aerith was a plainly visible horizon of flowers in multitudes of colors and heights from bright yellows to indigo.

With ease, Zack pushes himself up so he can sit, one knee bent and one out straight, an elbow rested on the raised knee. He looks out to the horizon line, gazing past the beautiful girl before him. He knows deep down that she has a respect for the foliage. She would not mind if he looked, especially if only for a moment before turning back to her soft features.

"What have you been up to since," Fair, with a lack of better words bluntly finishes with, "since you died?"

Aerith's rosy lips part with feminine laughter. "That is a nice way to put it," she tells him, pushing one of the long bangs beside her face behind her ear, revealing more of her flawless peach features. She is just as stunning as Zack remembers. "I was taking care of the flowers."

"There are flowers in heaven?" Zack asks, forcing himself to his feet for the first time—in what feels like—a lifetime. Then again, maybe it had been a lifetime. Maybe he spent twenty years wandering before finding Aerith up here and Cloud Strife was in his thirties. Zack holds out his hand to Aerith, offering to help her stand. She graciously accepts, nodding in thanks. "Well if there are angels on earth there might as well be flowers in heaven."

Aerith blushes, playfully shoving Zack's shoulder. "Oh you," she sighs. The man not much taller than her allows his body to shake with laughter. "What about you?" the girl asks.

"What about me?" the man asks. He is slowly and mindlessly walking toward the flowery fields. Nothingness begins to morph into a green ocean. One by one, stems of plants emerge from the ground then blossom in a matter of seconds, turning a sea of dewy grass into a flowered prairie. He frets, wondering if the lovely lady beside him will reprimand him for crunching on nature's beauty, but he finds himself not stepping on any. In a straight path out toward the setting sun on the empty horizon, grass lays open, waves of flowers swaying in a whispering wind.

"What was it like for you, wandering this world?" Aerith asks with her hands clasped together at her front, eyes set straight ahead intently. Zack tilts his head in confusion. The ancient tells him, "This is not heaven, silly," with a smile.

"Huh? Then where are we?" he asks her, stopping in his tracks, taking in the scenery with his glowing blue eyes.

Aerith twirls, hair curling as she does so, bangs falling this way and that yet still remaining perfectly in place. The low ponytail trailing down her back bounces, causing strands to come out from the clutches of a pink ribbon that Zack realizes is extremely familiar. It is the same bow that he had bought for her on the 'date' they went on during the first life. He finds himself remembering that night and how happy it made him. He is snapped out of his reminiscence when Aerith speaks.

"Somewhere between," she says almost tentatively, as if unsure. Her smile is promising and her eyes are bright and trustworthy. It is impossible to find any reason to _not_ believer her presumption.

Zack admires the attraction he has to her and all the faith and honesty that he believes comes with it. He turns his body to face hers, but it is difficult seeing as she is spinning gracefully through the grass, doing her best to avoid tramping on any of God's blossoms. The man was bemused—somewhere between heaven and earth existed. Fascinating, it was. If such a place existed, why was Aerith there? She surely was an angel. The way she respected all things, lovely or lowly; the way she cared for all people, no matter had they done wrong or right, no matter had they killed or sinned; and most of all, what convinced the man thinking these delectable thoughts was how she made him feel inside despite her innocent personality.

A surprising gust of wind whisks the pink ribbon from Aerith's hair, untying it and stealing it away. She quickly turns in distress. "Oh no," she whimpers, pouting irresistibly. She stands on her tip-toes in a futile attempt to reach the ribbon whirling just out of her reach.

Zack Fair watches in amusement as she prances around, blue skirt puffing out like a mushroom as she spins. Her thin legs are pale, contradicting the regularly visible parts of her body; perhaps she does not sit in the sun that often? It might be difficult seeing as she is… well… _dead_. It felt weird for Zack to think that Aerith, in all her lively, shining glory, was dead. She was no less beautiful than the day they met. She was no less loving than before. Nothing changed. Except now it seemed that her beige complexion shone during the white world's sunset. What would he not give to just reach out and _touch her_? She is so close to him, yet miles away. He does not like feeling inferior- especially to a _girl_.

No. No, no, no. Those thoughts were sexist and mean. Aerith would rip him a new one if he ever said that to her face aloud. She may be mild, but once someone angered her? Oh, Aerith could go _nuts_. Zack did not want that. He would much rather stand around, bemused by the way she strained herself when the ribbon (that _he_ bought her nonetheless) drifted just in and out of her reach. Tired of watching the girl suffer and squeak and ignoring how cute it was, Zack sneaks up behind her and firmly settles his hands on her hips. She giggles in shock and blushes.

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" she pretends to complain. Her body language entirely contradicts her request what with the way she takes two subtle steps back toward the man behind her. He smirks to himself and in a powerful (and extremely fluid) movement Zack rests the girl on one of his shoulders, holding her up with ease.

"There," he states with a smile of contentment, "do you think you can reach now?" he asks, looking up at her carefully. Were he to drop her he would feel awful for hurting the beauty of the scenery- both the woman on his arm with her bottom settled on his shoulder comfortably (and him so tempted to touch but resisting for his own sake) and the flowers on the ground below which she cherishes so dearly.

She extends her arm one more time. Much easier than it ever was while she attempted the venture alone, the ribbon is captured in her clutches. She beams and laughs. Zack lifts his arms and grips her hips. "Okay, off ya go," he says, setting her down on her feet.

She turns on her heel to face him, positively shining. She holds her hand out expectantly. Zack peers down at her open palm with the ribbon lying on it. He glances between it and her luminescent face. He reaches out and takes it from her like you would pick up fine china. The brunette turns her back to him again, her hair still holding up in its original rubber band. The boy takes the pastel silk and ties it around the head of her ponytail in a large, floppy bow. A breeze lifts it gently then sets it back down.

"Thank you, Zack," Aerith whispers, suddenly getting very quiet.

The man arches a dirty black brow. "Is something wrong?" he asks, looking out in the same general direction she does. He cannot see anything wrong. The sun is setting. Did the sun not already set? He could have sworn he had not been here that long. Or had he? What is up with this world? Being dead is confusing, he decides.

"I should get back," she tells him, smile dancing in her voice as she begins to take steps toward the horizon, hands clasped behind her back. She follows the long grass road to the sun.

Before she can get very far, Zack catches up with her. "Wait, where are you going? I thought we just got here."

"We did. But we can't stay forever, silly," she tells him, tilting her head innocently. Her bangs brush against the sides of her face, being carried lightly in the breeze. "We have to go somewhere."

"I thought you liked it here," the man tells her, genuinely shocked. Just as he started to get comfortable, the only company he had decided to up and leave. He was not going to do this _dead_ thing alone—certainly not with Aerith hanging around. He wanted to be around her every moment.

"I do like it here. But there are other places that need tending to also. I can't stay in one place forever." She drops her hands to her sides, fiddling with her skirt. "You have to go somewhere too."

Zack throws his arms up. "Go _where_? We're dead! Where are we supposed to go?" he exasperates. He pushes his hand through his hair agitatedly. Why does she have to leave? Cloud promised to keep her safe but could not protect her. If she leaves Zack, he will not be able to protect her either. How many times does this poor girl have to be let down?

Aerith puts a hand on his shoulder calmingly. Her eyes plead him to take deep breaths. Her eyes are watery. "I'm scared, you know," she admits quietly. "I wonder if I'll be able to help my friends from here. I don't want anything bad to happen to them. But if I can't, what am I supposed to do? We can't stop moving just because things look bleak," she explains. She meets his gaze and lifts her extra hand to the side of his face. She strokes his cheek. "Things don't look so bad from here, do they?"

The setting sun reflecting off her shining hair, dancing in her eyes, and the encouraging smile on her lips brings Zack Fair near tears. He gives into a moment of impulse, lightly touching the smooth skin of her neck, settling his hand around the back of it. She blushes. He smiles softly, leaning in most of the way. She nervously closes the gap, ghosting over his lips with her own. He shivers. She smiles, satisfied, and pulls away from him, reaching to hold one of his hands. He gives it to her.

_No_, he thinks with a pleased smile, following the girl as she starts off down the long road ahead of them. _They don't look so bad._

He has to admit that if Cloud had kept his promise and lived out both of their lives, thus protecting Aerith, she never would have died. In a selfish way, Zack happened to be happy that she passed into this life. At least now he was not alone. At least now, neither of them would be alone. Some promises are just better left un-kept.


End file.
